Published The Advocate, December 26, 2004


WHEN I travel I like to travel alone and to connect as little as possible with the people around me.

Keeping to myself, not talking to anyone if I can help it, is the way to become a better observer and eavesdropper.

Sitting aboard the Spirit in Christmas week, I stared at a woman with unconvincing blonde hair who sat alone at a corner table, surrounded by an air of melancholy and cheap perfume.

Even from this distance the stench of ripe mango and passionfruit took my breath away.

``How did we go here?’’ the waitress asked her, as if ministering to someone in an aged care home. Thumping pop music played in the background.

The woman told the waitress she was from Burnie. She said she had not been to Launceston all year but had gone to Melbourne to do her Christmas shopping. She looked sheepish.

I felt offended on behalf of local traders and decided to give my mainland friends gift vouchers that were redeemable only in Tasmanian shops to do my bit to boost visitor numbers.

Or give them a North-West chainsaw sculpture. Or I could do the rounds of the craft shops, buying up crocheted coat hangers and padded picture frames. Or give holiday snaps of myself at Stanley.

I had an elderly aunt who was considered tight. She gave gifts of TV wildlife documentaries she had taped herself; or of a particular ABC ``Life Matters’’ program that discussed how elderly relatives were being coerced into nursing homes; or her rollmop recipe.

The woman on the Spirit said the grandkids had given her a list of music CDs they wanted as stocking fillers.

You know you’re growing old, Nana, when the greatest hits CDs of Robbie Williams, powderfinger, Live and Korn contain songs you’ve never heard.

She said the grandkids lived in Melbourne, so it was easier to buy the CDs there. The kids had accompanied her to ensure she chose the right ones.

Now she was heading home to Burnie for Christmas. She seemed close to tears.

Nana, why didn’t you stay with the grandkids for Christmas? Why couldn’t they visit you in Burnie? Are you spending Christmas alone? Looking at her sad face, only sad answers came to mind.

At Christmas, it seems the whole world is on the move, as if everyone is heading back to the place where they came from. The ferries are packed with people and their dogs.

A handsome young couple on the Spirit cupped their faces against the salt stained window for a better look at the overcast North-West coast. The girl was pregnant.

``Wow, we’re nearly home!’’ she said excitedly. The guy used a flexible reading lamp to spotlight her swollen belly. ``Yeah, Christmas,’’ he smiled.

I looked in the direction they were looking. Home. Yes, for me too.

In my new house overlooking Bass Strait, what I wanted for Christmas was a housekeeper whose chief task would be to ensure I was not disturbed while working.

Maybe next year.